


A Slow Realization

by D (come_feed_the_rain)



Category: Weiss Kreuz
Genre: M/M, Precognition, SEX!! WOO!!, assassination jobs, steamy visions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-15 09:29:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/come_feed_the_rain/pseuds/D
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brad might have an advantage with his precognition, but that doesn't mean he's quick on the uptake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Um…heh. This one sort of took off and I just had to hold on. ^_^ Written for a prompt from Spring Kink 2007 on LJ
> 
> _Prompt: Weiss Kreuz, Crawford/Any: up against a wall - one night in Bangkok._

Part I

He could taste the whiskey on Yohji's lips, chased the taste with his tongue and swallowed Yohji's moan. Yohji's fingers dug into his shoulders as he ground against Brad. Brad's breath hitched and he yanked Yohji's hips closer, plastering Yohji against him, pressing Yohji back into the glass wall. He devoured Yohji's mouth, spread his hands over Yohji's hip and lower back, wanting to slide his hand inside Yohji's pants, but finding them too tight. Yohji chuckled and pulled Brad's shirt out of his slacks, sliding his hands slowly up Brad's stomach.

Brad sucked in a deep breath as Yohji's fingers reached his pectorals. "Your pants are too tight." Brad cupped Yohji's ass, feeling and stroking though the tight material.

"Mmm…" Yohji murmured against Brad's neck. "And you're too built. I'm close to ripping your shirt off."

Brad grasped Yohji's wrist as Yohji's fingers caught at his nipple and traced two fingers up the seam of Yohji's pants. He rolled his hips, rubbing himself against the blade of Yohji's hip and flexing the thigh that Yohji was riding. Yohji's head fell back against the glass with a thunk and a loud moan.

Brad rolled onto his back and gazed at his ceiling through the darkness. His body was taught, the tension of intense arousal surging though him. His breath was uneven as he turned his head to look at his clock. 5:14. Too early for him to be awake, but not by much. It wasn't like he was going to be able to sleep after this.

He rolled out of bed, limped into his bathroom, unsuccessfully ignoring the burning ache between his legs. He didn't bother with the lights – there were plenty remembered when he closed his eyes – just turned on the shower and felt his way under the spray.

One hand bracing himself on the wall, he wrapped his other hand around himself, closed his eyes and remembered how Yohji felt against him, trapped between Brad and the wall. He took it from there, imagining that it was Yohji stroking his cock, that it was Yohji's cock he was tugging on.

He bent his head under the shower spray as Yohji's fingers explored his balls. There was cold metal under his naked ass and he was thankful he had the foresight to wash his car earlier. Yohji's panting breaths were moist and hot against his neck as Yohji slid back onto Brad's fingers. Yohji's fingers massaged his balls; slid back to rub behind them, twisted up his cock to circle the head, spread the liquid that had accumulated there.

Yohji licked his lips, tongue flicking against the tendon in Brad's neck. "You're leaking."

Brad gave a breathless laugh as Yohji's fingers slid back down his cock. "So are you." He had three fingers inside Yohji now and was slowly rolling Yohji's balls in his other hand. With each breath or jerk of his hips, Yohji's cock bounced against Brad's forearm, blotting moisture on his skin. The skin was tight where Yohji had left a drying trail while squirming when Brad had slid three fingers inside him.

"I'm going to bend you over my car and fuck you hard." Brad announced; gasping as Yohji slid his thumb up the vein under his cock. He twisted his fingers in Yohji to get in deep.

"You just washed your car, though." Yohji didn't sound as though he was protesting until Brad pulled his fingers free.

Brad pressed Yohji over the hood. "And now I'm going to drive around town with your semen drying on my car." Brad rubbed himself in the crevice of Yohji's ass and came, his guttural moan loud against the tiles of the shower, the spray beating hard on his neck, hot water sluicing down his back, winding down his thighs.

He unwound his fingers from around his softening penis, held his hand in the spray to rinse his fingers clean. His legs tingled, one knee wobbling slightly, and his head felt as though it were floating. Two visions essentially back to back, and his energy was shot. He slapped at the faucet, turning the water off and climbed carefully out of the shower. He kept one hand on the wall as he made his way back to bed. The languidness of sated desire loosened his limbs, unwinding his muscles one by one until he fell into bed, still wet from his shower and rolled into the blankets, unwilling to let his mind think about anything until he had gotten some sleep.

 

Brad's visions were peculiar from the other few precognitives in how vivid they were. Sometimes, when trapped in a vision, he had difficulty in differentiating between a vision and the present reality. There were always ways to tell, but it was usually once the vision had let him go, not during. While he couldn't understand how it was he had come to be fucking Yohji Kudo, it had been utterly real in those visions. And, of course, since almost all of Brad's visions came to pass, unless he worked specifically to avert the outcome – the vision still came to pass, it merely had a different outcome – this meant that at some point in the future, Brad really would be fucking Yohji Kudo.

While it was difficult, Brad certainly was capable of being surprised. And this was certainly a surprise. Especially the next vision that came on the heels of a particularly trying week riddled with jobs, research, evaluations, cleaning up the remains of two Catholic missionaries and little to no sleep.

His eyes were closed and he was relaxed, spread out on a comfortable bed, a feather pillow cushioning his temple and cheek. Strong fingers were pressing into the muscles of his back, releasing the tension and stress. He let out a groan as a particularly large knot was slowly loosened and received a breathy chuckle for it.

"When I first saw you tonight, I thought that you'd be too tense to be able to get undressed and lay down. And here you are, naked and relaxed, spread out on my bed like a treat." Yohji's voice was light and low, a sensual purr that alternatively lit Brad's nerves on fire and relaxed him further.

Brad smiled, feeling no pressing need to open his eyes. "It is a testament to the talent of your fingers, then."

A light kiss was pressed to the back of his neck. "Aw…not of any other talent I have?"

"You said not tonight, though I'd not be adverse."

Another kiss was dropped on his shoulder and Brad felt warm and safe, it was comforting and he never wanted it to end. "No. Tonight is about relaxing you. You work too damned hard, Brad. Let me take care of you." A warm hand slid down his flank, back up over his ass and dug into the flesh in the small of his back. He groaned, sinking further into the embrace of Yohji's bed. Fingers dug in on either side of his spine and Yohji's warm voice soothed him. "Just sleep, Brad. You need it."

The door to Brad's office opened, as did Brad's eyes. He stared up at the wide grin that Schuldig sent his way as he tried to comprehend this latest vision. He was going to let Yohji call him by his first name? He was shaken; though he was assured he did not show it. Schuldig certainly didn't find anything out of place as he stretched into one of Brad's chairs and put his feet up on Brad's desk. Brad shoved Schuldig's feet off, scowling when Schuldig's heel caught on a folder and sent it fluttering to the floor.

"All right, all right, you don't need to send the look of doom my way, Crawford, shit." Schuldig slid off of the chair to pick up the pages instead of needling Brad for being distraught. Brad was gratified for the verification that he was, indeed, keeping his turmoil locked down.

Schuldig slapped the folder on his desk. "So. You said we have a job tonight." Schuldig's grin showed nothing but teeth. Brad passed Schuldig the pertinent folder and began explaining the important points, all the while unable to get the gentleness and trust that had permeated every layer of that vision out of his mind.

Up until that vision, he had just been thinking that he needed to get laid, that he was desperate for some sort of pleasurable company and that was why his gift was showing him these enticing moments of the future. But this, this was so different, Brad almost couldn't comprehend it. Not until the job he and Schuldig ran that night. Or more precisely, after it.

It was the standard kill off the politician hopeful and his family for outstanding debts to the mafia, of which not all debts were monetary. In this situation, the politician hopeful was in the next prefecture over, some freshly scrubbed face thinking that he could reinvent the future of politics – make them cleaner, more honest. The mafia was, of course, the Yakuza, someone in the Yamaguchi-guchi who had a beef over the utopian fantasy the politician had been reaching for. It was a simple job: in, out and don't look back. Frame the wife for the murder of her husband and watch the media frenzy while sipping cocktails the next day on CNN – Brad had never cared for the Japanese newscasts.

The job had gone off without a hitch, and two bodies were left behind. Schuldig had gone out to entertain himself while Brad took the time to contemplate what all his recent visions had meant. He sipped his scotch and gazed out over the bright Tokyo night on his knees with a mouthful of Yohji. He trailed his hand up Yohji's thighs as Yohji's fingers combed through his hair.

"The always-put-together, impeccable Brad Crawford, and I get to see him mused and on his knees." Yohji's leer took on a darker tone and Brad pulled back, shoving Yohji away from him with a hand on his stomach. He stood up, straightening the clothes he hadn't bothered to take off, refastening buttons and zipping up his slacks, his face blank, feeling sick inside. Was this all it was, then? His eyes slid away from Yohji's shocked face as he finished with his shirt buttons. Yohji's hands were suddenly on his chest and he raised his hands to shove Yohji away from him, unamused, angry and strangely hurt.

"Brad, babe, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. You know I wouldn't mean it like that." Yohji's hands fluttered over his shoulders, needing to touch, but afraid of how it would be taken. "I was just commenting on how no one ever sees you less than impeccable, and I get to see you with your hair messed up, without your glasses and with your tie hanging off of you and your shirt undone. I get to see you relaxed. And I like it, that you'll let your defenses down around me."

Yohji's hands cupped his jaw as he maintained his silence, examining why he felt hurt. He'd had worse things said to him over the years, and nothing anyone had said had made a dent in his armor, but Yohji made an innocent comment and it tore him open? "What's wrong, babe? Talk to me."

"I don't know." Brad said into his glass of scotch, surprised to find himself in his kitchen and not with Yohji. _I don't know what is wrong with me. I don't understand all of this._ He drowned the rest of the scotch and called it an early night, disconcerted and confused and hoping for another vision.

 

He was starting to think about Yohji all of the time now: the way his skin glowed in candlelight, his hair when wet, the way he trailed his fingers along the rim of his glass, how he felt, how he looked, how he got under Brad's skin without ever trying. He took walks, sometimes, that led him past the shop that was Yohji's cover – a quaint idea that a cover job was necessary – just so he could get a glimpse. He watched from the coffee shop across the street as Yohji smoked in the alley, as Yohji napped on the register, as Siberian stuffed a hose down Yohji's white shirt and soaked him.

That night, Brad did not have a vision, just a dream of Yohji's shirt plastered to him, showing his skin and brown nipples, a small bubble of white where air was trapped over his navel. Yohji smiled, holding out his arms, welcoming Brad into his embrace, laughing when Brad sucked on that bubble of white. Their hands wandered as they laughed, rolling around, Yohji pulling off his shirt and wringing it out over Brad's head, a splash of lukewarm water sliding down his face, dripping from his hair. Yohji laughed, threaded his hands into Brad's hair, pressing him down with a messy kiss, and Brad let him, laughing lightly, hands caging Yohji's hips.

He woke up hard, but it wasn't an urgent arousal, not like the several times he'd been woken up by visions of Yohji. So instead of heading into the shower, Brad went downstairs to the kitchen. Schuldig was there, sitting on the counter chugging a glass of water. Brad ignored Schuldig's raised eyebrow, merely pouring himself a glass of water and leaning against the sink.

Schuldig eyed him up and down and Brad regretted not getting dressed. "Well, well. It seems someone is in need." Schuldig's words stumbled into each other as Schuldig slid off the counter, setting his empty glass aside and slinking up to drape himself over Brad's side, hand sliding across Brad's hip. "All you had to do was ask." The words were hot in his ear.

And wrong. Brad shoved Schuldig away from him hard enough that Schuldig stumbled back into the counter, wincing. Coldly: "I do not want you."

Schuldig sneered, a cover for the rejection, for Schuldig never took rejection well, and to top it off, Schuldig was drunk, his words slurring. "What do you want? Do you even know?"

Brad pushed up his glasses. "I know what I want." Yohji, Brad realized with a shock, even though it had become quite obvious. He hadn't wanted to see, hadn't wanted to realize. He didn't want that kind of upheaval in his world. But it was there, a fact that he couldn't avoid. He wanted Yohji, and it was more than sex that he wanted him for. He backed away from Schuldig, before turning to stride out of the kitchen, seeking to collect himself alone.

 

There was a fleeting kiss on his hip, a feathery brush of air along his thigh. The rustle of cloth had him shifting further into awareness, warmth settling between his legs. He shifted at a light touch on the inside of his thigh, bringing his leg up, feeling his skin slide against someone else's. Warm breath disturbed the hair around his cock causing a morning erection to twitch into life. A thumb pressed into the crease between torso and leg, warmth radiating into his awakening erection. A flat tongue licked up his length, his hips bucking as his awareness came more into focus.

He moaned lowly, "Yohji." Shifted as Yohji took him into his mouth, suckling and massaging with his tongue and fuck he ought to wake up like this every day. He slid fingers into Yohji's hair, eyes blinking open only to close again as Yohji wound his tongue around his cock. Yohji slid a hand under his ass, encouraging the small movement Brad's hips made until Brad was thrusting in and out of Yohji's mouth. He realized that he was being gentle with Yohji, careful not to thrust too hard or too deep, careful not to yank on his hair and he blinked his eyes open to see the light turn green.

He nudged the car forward, pulling over at the first available parking space and cupping his urgency. He wrapped both hands around the steering wheel, gritted his teeth and waited, willing his erection away. He wasn't going to jack off in his car like some schoolboy that he had never been. It might be helpful, as he was getting ready to see Yohji, ambushing him in the bar he was holed up in for the night. He just wanted to talk, however. He couldn't get to the point his visions were showing him until he made contact with Yohji beyond the field of crime, and now that he knew what he wanted, he didn't want to waste any time starting down the path his visions were leading him.

In the end, his urgency went away and he climbed out of his car and strode into the bar, all confidence and power as always. People's heads turned except for the one he wanted, and he mused about how typical that felt, like the watched pot that refused to boil. He slid onto a bar stool next to Yohji's bowed head and ordered a whiskey. Yohji's head came up, glanced at him blearily, and started to bow again before Yohji bolted to his feet, eyes wide.

"S-S-Sch-Crawford!" Yohji gaped. Brad merely pointed at Yohji's glass and ordered a second one for Yohji.

He raised an eyebrow. "Going to sit down and enjoy your drink, or make a scene for no reason?"

After a moment, in which the bar tender set down Yohji's refilled drink, Yohji finally slid stiffly onto his stool. He cleared his throat, fingers curling around his drink. "You just surprised me, is all." Yohji took a long drink. "Why are you here?"

"I wanted to have a drink or two away from my associates." It was a convenient enough excuse. And it sent Yohji's head nodding in agreement.

Yohji lifted his glass. "Here. Here." Brad tipped the rim of his glass against Yohji's, giving a small smile. It was obvious that Yohji was drunk, and while it stung a bit that Yohji was only being friendly because of the liquor, it was still a pleasant evening. He decided that he was definitely going to seek Yohji out more often.

After last call, which Brad passed up in favor of watching Yohji sprawl against the bar, it was obvious that Yohji was too drunk to drive. "I'm getting you a cab," Brad insisted, trying to hold up a limp Yohji.

Yohji sprawled against Brad's side, breathing beer-fouled breath against Brad's jaw. "I can drive."

"You can barely walk, much less drive." The cab pulled up in front of Brad and Brad maneuvered to open the back door without dumping Yohji on his ass. He managed to get a protesting Yohji inside, legs and arms nestled safely in the cab.

Yohji looked up at him with big eyes. "Why're you being so nice?"

Brad pulled a strand of hair out of the corner of Yohji's mouth and tucked it behind Yohji's ear. "No reason not to be." He turned to give the cabbie directions, straightened and shut the door, stepping away and watching the cab drive off. His body still tingled from Yohji's warmth pressed against him. And he supposed that made up for the softness he had shown. He frowned, still unsettled by the whole thing, turned and walked back to his car. Settling in, he buckled up and turned the car on when Yohji's hands covered his eyes and his sultry voice sounded in his ear.

"Surprise." Yohji pressed a kiss to his jaw. "Happy birthday." Yohji's hands slipped from his eyes as he came around Brad and slid into his lap, wrists hooking over his shoulders.

Brad frowned, "It's not my birthday."

Yohji gave a lopsided smile. "I figured, but I didn't know, and you haven't said. So I picked a day. It was easy, because I found this thing that was perfect for you." Yohji reached to the side and pulled a box into their laps. "Go on. Open it."

He traced the lines on the wrapping paper slowly before neatly unwinding the paper, much to Yohji's chagrin, and slid the box open. A long cream scarf was nestled in the box – soft, so very soft, Brad realized when he picked it up – and Yohji smiled tenderly as he fingered the cloth with Brad.

"I like scarves on men and this one I thought suited you. And since I gave it to you, I thought that you might think of it as having a little piece of me wrapped around you whenever you wear it." Yohji took the scarf out of his hands and draped it over his head, pulling it taut against his neck.

"It is perfect." He draped a section of the scarf around Yohji's neck and tugged Yohji to him. Yohji came easily, a light smile on his lips, parting them for Brad and dragging his fingers up into Brad's hair from the nape of his neck. Brad slid his hand down Yohji's back, feeling the scarf against his jaw and pulled out of his parking space, merging into traffic. Brad drove home feeling alone.

 

For the next four days, Brad delved into work like nothing else existed for him. The fifth day, Brad assigned a bloody and violent job for Schwarz and showed no mercy to his target. His visions were blissfully silent for the next few weeks as he slowly came to terms with Yohji's tenderness. Brad found himself, on more than one occasion, at a display counter in the department stores, full of scarves, looking for one similar. He had tried one on before realizing that it didn't feel like Yohji was wrapped around him, because it wasn't the one Yohji had given him. That incident sent Brad into another flurry of overwork and another job. This time, it was solo, just a quick information extraction.

The jump drive was tucked safely away in his jacket as he strode out of the office and backtracked his way through the upper reaches of security into the lower, less secure floors where he could move more freely. He stopped, stiff, stepping into the shadows as the sounds of a scuffle reached his ears. Moving slowly, drifting from shadow to shadow, Brad drew his gun and kept his senses open. He peered around the corner at the end of the hallway and saw a group of guards converging on Balinese. A sharp crunch and Yohji tugged his wire free from a broken neck as the corpse dropped to the floor. He turned to the next threat, but Brad could see everything, and fired at a guard advancing on Yohji with a nightstick. The guard dropped with a choked yelp, dying before he hit the ground, and Brad strode out from around the corner, gun held steady, as everyone glanced his way.

He could see the wary surprise in Yohji's eyes behind the sunglasses that were in danger of falling off Yohji's nose. He could tell that Yohji wasn't sure if Brad was friend or foe, but that didn't matter. His actions would become apparent soon enough. Yohji recovered before the guards did, pulled another one into death and disarming a third. Brad had no hesitation and simply picked off another two guards.

Brad's vision flared, and he turned to fire into the opening elevator doors before the reinforcements could get a look at what they were facing. The three went down, crumpled into a heap. His gun had clicked empty, and he let the empty cartridge slide out to the ground, shoving a new one in. He turned back in time to see Yohji go down, a guard following him down with a sharp swing of his nightstick. Brad bared his teeth, firing at the guard, putting two slugs into him before they hit the floor, Yohji's head smacking sharply against the floor. Brad stalked over to them, kicking the guard off of Yohji and shooting him between the eyes. He holstered his gun after a quick glance, cataloguing everything, and crouched down at Yohji's side, sliding a hand onto Yohji's jaw.

There was blood, but that was fixable. It was what he couldn't see, he reminded himself grimly; that was more threatening. Yohji was out, unconscious, but not seeming to have any difficulty breathing. Thick red streaks were already spreading out over Yohji's temple from his hairline, the making of a fantastic bruise that he already knew Yohji would be whining about for weeks to come.

Yohji gave a soft moan, his hand coming up to press against his temple. Brad caught at it, not letting Yohji disturb the injury. He leaned over, speaking softly. "Yohji? Look at me Yohji." Yohji's eyes fluttered and he blinked them open to peer blurrily at Brad.

"Wha?" Yohji moved to sit up, Brad sliding a hand behind his back to help him up when Yohji groaned, sagging against Brad. "Ugh."

He slipped his arms under Yohji's body, carefully picking him up and settling him in his arms, before standing and stepping over the fallen guards and toward the exit, ignoring the elevator doors, mindlessly attempting to close on an arm, bouncing back open when they encountered resistance. Yohji's breath was cold against his neck, but his fingers gripped Brad's lapel over his collarbone.

"Hold on. You'll be fine." Brad murmured softly as he shouldered his way out of the building and toward his car. It wasn't difficult to get Yohji settled in the front seat of his car. Yohji was aware enough to be helpfully limp, not hindering in his lethargy. Brad crouched down to buckle Yohji in, sliding a hand onto Yohji's jaw, turning his face so Brad could peer into his eyes. Brad frowned at the way Yohji winced, at how dilated his pupils were. He lightly caressed Yohji's cheekbone as Yohji's eyes blinked heavily at him.

"Hang in there, Yohji." Yohji's nose scrunched up as Brad stood and Brad heard a mumbled "Ka-fod?" before he shut the door.

 

Yohji slept soundly before him. Patched and cleaned up, resting for another twenty minutes until Brad needed to wake him up to make sure Yohji's condition wasn't worsening. A mild concussion and some heavy bruising and light abrasions, easy enough for Brad to handle on his own. He sat with his elbows on his knees and his chin on his fists watching Yohji sleep.

He thought back through the last few months of visions and realizations, revisiting a vision here, a desire there until it was time to wake Yohji up. Waking Yohji was easy, as it should be, and tension that Brad hadn't been aware of was shed from him as he smiled at Yohji's grogginess. Yohji lifted a hand toward his temple. Brad caught it and lowered it back to Yohji's lap, stroking Yohji's wrist with his thumb.

"It's all right. You're fine." He spoke with Yohji, asking him questions, forcing him to talk until he was sure that his condition was not worsening. "Go ahead," Brad murmured, "go back to sleep." Yohji's eyes drooped one last time and he sighed, slipping back into sleep without protesting. It was then that he began to ache, the muscles in his arms and legs feeling heavy. Adrenaline, Brad was surprised to realize. He sank into the chair, getting comfortable for the long night ahead of him and marveled at the idea that he would get an adrenaline rush at Yohji being injured. Not the idea, the fact.

He reached out, resting his hand lightly on Yohji's shin. Yohji was so warm and solid and real. Real in a way his visions couldn't be yet. This really was Yohji, not some future version of him. He slid his hand up Yohji's leg, shifting forward to be able to reach. He hadn't taken the time to admire Yohji earlier when he had been patching him up, so he took the time now, noticing the differences between the Yohji in front of him and the Yohji in his visions.

It would be a while, then, he realized, but it also wouldn't be a long time. While there were differences, they were subtle; nothing drastic and nothing that quite reminded him of age. The Yohji in his future didn't really look any older than the Yohji slumbering in front of him. And it was this that had Brad settling on the edge of the bed, leaning over Yohji, hand sliding up his side. He pressed his lips to Yohji's temple – the one not colorful with a vivid bruise – and wanted more. His body sang in its proximity to Yohji and he wanted to settle beside Yohji and hold him.

He sat back, brushing Yohji's bangs from his face before moving back to his chair. He slid his fingers over his lips and watched and worried.

 

Brad woke with a start, opening his eyes to find Yohji watching him warily from the bed. Brad rubbed his eyes and pushed himself out of the slump he had ended up in on the chair. He swung his feet around, setting them on the floor and scratched at his bare shoulder with a yawn.

"How are you feeling?" Brad asked, raking his fingers back through his hair and resettling his glasses. Yohji's mouth was tight and his glaze flicked up to meet Brad's.

"Fine." He said cautiously. "A small headache." Yohji's fingers plucked at the hem of the sheet.

Brad nodded, sliding over to sit on the edge of the bed to peer more closely at Yohji. "It's to be expected. You took a hard hit to the head." He placed his hand on Yohji's cheek to better see the bruise that had darkened considerably. "You are doing much better. You do not need observation anymore; you can heal on your own." Yohji's hand closed around his wrist.

"Why are you doing this?" Yohji's mouth was pulled down in a deep frown and Brad let him take control of his hand, leaving his wrist in Yohji's grasp.

"Why wouldn't I?"

Yohji gave a soft snort. "You've never really appeared to be good Samaritans, if you catch my drift, and we aren't on the same side."

The corner of Brad's mouth twitched in amusement. "Who says there are sides? Call it professional courtesy if it makes you feel better."

Yohji's eyebrow twitched, rising slightly before Yohji pressed a palm to his forehead, frowning with pain. Brad could see the tension at the corners of Yohji's eyes. "I would've never thought I'd see the day I received courtesy from a member of Schwarz." Yohji said testily.

Brad leaned over to reach for the bottle of pain relievers that were on the bedside table. "You should take some now." He held them out for Yohji to take; Yohji eyed them suspiciously. "I have accomplished my goals, something I had been working on achieving for over ten years. When you are trying to break free from something, after that long, no matter who you are, you do not care about who or what you use in order to attain your freedom."

Yohji watched Brad openly for a long moment before slowly reaching to take the bottle from Brad's fingers. "Freedom, huh?" Brad inclined his head in agreement, for that's what his bid for power had been about, freedom for himself and his team. Yohji frowned, opening the bottle and shaking four out. "Doesn't make what you did right."

"I do not care about right or wrong. But I acknowledge your viewpoint."

Yohji glanced up at him, swallowing the pills. "Then why bother helping me? Why bother with this?" Yohji gestured at the hotel room.

Brad raised an eyebrow. "Why not?" Brad stood, reaching for his discarded shirt, shrugging it over his shoulders. He sighed, starting on the buttons. "You are not my pawn, so I no longer have an ulterior motive for helping you beyond my desire to do so." Yohji was silent, slowly turning the bottle of pills in his hands. Brad handed him some cash, neatly folded. "For a cab. There should be plenty to get you home from here. The room is taken care of, just turn in the key when you leave. Take your time, there is no rush." Brad grabbed his jacket and gun holster, folding the weapon neatly in his jacket before draping it casually over his arm.

Yohji gazed up at him, watching him raptly as Brad got dressed. "But why? It doesn't make sense. Why me? Why now?"

Brad paused on his way to the door. "Because I wanted to. Because I did not want to see you hurt. Of course it makes sense. Why else would anyone want to help anyone else? You will be fine, you are strong." Brad turned, leaving Yohji staring after him, and left, closing the door gently behind him.

 

Brad stood in middle of his bedroom, slowly looking around, and feeling like there was something missing. Everything was there and in its place, however. He touched his fingers to the top of his dresser, slid them over its polished surface, and glanced around the room again, frowning. It wasn't right, there was something wrong, something not right, but Brad couldn't put his finger on what it was.

The feeling worsened as he slowly readied for bed, sliding into bed, folding his glasses and setting them on his bedside table. He stretched out on his back, pulling the covers up after turning off the lamp. He lay there for a while trying to pin point what was wrong. Even as his body relaxed, his mind did not, but it had been a stressful day and he hadn't gotten much sleep the previous night. He rolled onto his side, half asleep, and reached for something that was not there.

 

He could taste the whiskey on Yohji's lips, chased the taste with his tongue and swallowed Yohji's moan. Yohji's fingers dug into his shoulders as he ground against Brad. Brad's breath hitched and he yanked Yohji's hips closer, plastering Yohji against him, pressing Yohji back into the glass wall. He devoured Yohji's mouth, spread his hands over Yohji's hip and lower back, wanting to slide his hand inside Yohji's pants, but finding them too tight. Yohji chuckled and pulled Brad's shirt out of his slacks, sliding his hands slowly up Brad's stomach.

Brad sucked in a deep breath as Yohji's fingers reached his pectorals. "Your pants are too tight." Brad cupped Yohji's ass, feeling and stroking though the tight material.

"Mmm…" Yohji murmured against Brad's neck. "And you're too built. I'm close to ripping your shirt off."

Brad grasped Yohji's wrist as Yohji's fingers caught at his nipple and traced two fingers up the seam of Yohji's pants. He rolled his hips, rubbing himself against the blade of Yohji's hip and flexing the thigh that Yohji was riding. Yohji's head fell back against the glass with a thunk and a loud moan.

He could see the city stretched out behind Yohji. The brilliant lights of Bangkok spreading outward like a puddle, seeking to find no boundary in the darkness beyond. If Brad concentrated, really searching the night cityscape, he could see the narrow dark slash of the river in the distance, but frankly, Yohji was much more interesting than a muddy old river, and Brad didn't spare it more attention than he needed to turn Yohji around.

The observation deck was empty save for the two of them, and Brad meant to put it to good use as he peeled Yohji's pants down just enough to reach what he wanted. He cupped Yohji, sliding his other hand down his flank, nuzzling his nose into Yohji's hair, seeking out his neck.

"Beautiful view." Brad breathed into Yohji's hair, pressing two fingers against Yohji, teasing him.

Yohji gasped, throwing his head back, hands pressed against the glass. "Don't care about some stinking city. Oh yes, oh don't stop."

Brad smiled, slowly stroking Yohji from the inside and the outside. "Who said I was talking about the city?" Yohji shuddered in his hands, moaning softly, clamping a hand on Brad's forearm, stroking Brad's skin with his thumb.

The lube was thick and slick on his fingers and it squelched softly when Brad shifted his fingers in Yohji, rubbing, stretching and relaxing. Brad breathed shakily against Yohji's neck, sliding his hand from Yohji's cock to Yohji's hip where the waist of his pants cut a harsh line across his thigh. Brad worked on shoving Yohji's pants down further while working in a third finger, Yohji helped, having to keep one hand on the glass to brace himself.

Yohji turned around with a smile, toeing off his shoes. He leaned forward into Brad to suck at his neck. Brad closed his eyes, fingers finding their way into Yohji again.

"I want your shirt off." Yohji breathed into Brad's neck, hands squeezing Brad's sides before dropping to his own hips. "I want to see you again." Yohji peered up at him. "You left quite the impression."

Yohji wriggled against him as he worked his tight pants the rest of the way off, stepping out of them, all while pressed as close to Brad as possible. Brad worked on the buttons of his shirt, shrugging his shirt off of his shoulders and dropping his hands to his slacks, leaving his shirt hanging off of his forearms. He yanked his belt open as Yohji slid his hands up his chest, and tore into his pants.

Yohji grinned. "And that is the reason for too tight pants." Brad opened his mouth to praise the benefits when Yohji licked his nipple and a moan came out instead. His slacks slid down to around his ankles, his underwear caught around his thighs. He slid his dry hand into Yohji's hair as Yohji's hand slid down his stomach. Brad's hand slapped against the window, leaving a slight trail of lube on the glass when Yohji's fingers wrapped around him, gently exploring him. He gave a loud moan as Yohji traced the flare of his head. It felt even better than it had in any of his vision, as this was happening now.

"You feel different." Yohji marveled, his fingers sliding down the underside of him in emphasis. Brad thrust forward into the cage of Yohji's fingers, nudging against Yohji's palm and sliding against his wrist. He realized that Yohji was referring to his circumcision, and that he didn't have the shock of holding an uncircumcised cock because he'd become used to the difference throughout the course of his visions. Yohji didn't have that opportunity. "Wow. Very different." Yohji licked his lips as Brad shuddered in his hand, letting his head fall back as he sucked in a breath. Yohji closed his fingers around him and stroked. "But good, very good.

"Where's the lube?" Yohji asked, nibbling on Brad's jaw.

Brad slid his hand down Yohji's back, still braced against the glass. "It's in my pant pocket." Yohji pressed a grin behind his ear before sinking to his knees. Brad could feel Yohji rummaging in his slacks when they were pulled tight against his ankle, but at the forefront of his attention was Yohji's mouth as it wrapped around him, hot and wet, catching just the head of him, tongue sliding around him, exploring. Yohji's hand slid over his ass and squeezed the top of the back of his thigh; his other hand sliding up his other leg and Brad could feel the tube of lubricant pressing into his skin. Yohji pulled back, letting Brad fall out of his mouth and grinned up at him.

"You feel very good, indeed." Yohji stood while Brad made a noise of agreement, squeezing some lube on his fingers and wrapping them around Brad as Brad leaned in to nibble on Yohji's bottom lip, his jaw and his collar bone. He slid his hand down Yohji's flank, dragging his leg up to rest over his hip. Yohji twisted his hand over Brad, spreading the lube, before smirking and wiping his hand off on the bunched up material of Brad's underwear where it still ringed his thighs.

Brad wrinkled his nose, taking his hand off of the glass and wiping it on his underwear as well. "Thank you." He drawled drolly as he slid his hand onto Yohji's thigh, preparing to hoist him up. "Up."

Yohji bounced up, hanging onto Brad and wrapping his legs around Brad's waist. "Anytime, babe." Yohji threaded his arms around Brad's neck as Brad slid his hands up Yohji's thighs to cup his ass to support his weight. He shuffled into Yohji, stepping into alignment with Yohji, pressing Yohji into the glass wall overlooking Bangkok. Yohji's breath caught as Brad's erection settled against him and Brad pressed forward and in, giving Yohji no chance to recover so he could watch Yohji's eyes flutter as he sank inside.

It wasn't smooth; it wasn't perfect; it wasn't some glorious first time. What it was was good and fulfilling. It was fun as they laughed when Yohji hit his head on the glass, or when an air bubble was trapped between Yohji's back and the glass and made the most flatulent sound. Yohji had one hand pressed over his mouth and one hand curled in the short hair at the nape of Brad's neck as he laughed. Brad had pressed his face into Yohji's neck, pausing in his thrusts as he joined Yohji in his laughter.

Yohji's hand cupped his face and Brad moved within him again, strokes long and steady. Brad freed a hand to touch Yohji's neck, gaze focused on the skin under his fingertips. Yohji's fingers clenched on the back of his neck, sucking in a gasp of air as Brad shifted his angle, sliding his hand further under Yohji to support him while he explored Yohji's neck and jaw with his other hand. Yohji's ankles crossed behind his back and Yohji passed his thumb over Brad's open mouth before digging his fingers into Brad's hair.

The glass was fogged up around them, clearly showing Brad's smeared handprint from before, small clear streaks from Yohji's hair; the city was a warm diffused glow through the condensation. The small sounds Yohji made and Brad's harsh pants were loud in his ears, filling up the air around them. Sweat rolled down his temple as Yohji stretched in his arms, head falling back, eyes closed, groaning as he spasmed in Brad's arms, jerking as he came. Brad gritted his teeth, watching, absorbing Yohji's orgasm.

"I'll see this again." He promised gutturally as he closed his eyes and came deep inside Yohji, head falling to rest on Yohji's heaving shoulder. Yohji's fingers combed through his hair and they regained their breath, Brad's thumbs lightly caressing the flesh of Yohji's hips. He wasn't ready to let Yohji down, to let Yohji go, but he let Yohji's legs slide over his hips anyway. There would be more time. His visions assured it. As did the way Yohji's arms still held him.


	2. Chapter 2

Part II

 

Yohji woke up to phantom hands caressing him, dream lips brushing against his skin and heat pooling between his thighs because of it. This was the sixth, seventh time? Yohji had lost count of how many times he had dreamt, not of his on again, off again lover, but of a taller man, an older man.

Contrary to popular belief, Yohji did have a preferred type of lover and Aya just did not fit it anymore. Sure, Aya was attractive and yes, Aya had a hard body, but Aya only acted like he liked Yohji when they were in bed. Aya never stayed after and Aya wasn't gentle – there was nothing soft about Aya except for his hair.

Yohji liked hard bodies and gentle hands. Lips that were pliant and soft as they kissed him. He liked older men who wanted him for him, not just for the sex. He wanted to be liked all of the time, not just some of the time. He wanted a man who would talk with him, not at him, not judgmental and harsh. Yohji didn't like feeling less than anyone and he didn't like feeling bad about himself.

During his destructive phase, Yohji didn't care who he bedded, he just needed the closeness, no matter how false or contrived. It was a way for him to like himself a little, a way for him to feel like he could actually connect with another human being. For a short while, he felt wanted and desired, felt like he could be somebody. And even though it always left him feeling worse, he continued to seek out that nightly reassurance.

Now that Yohji was moving on, now that he was learning to be at peace with himself, Yohji was becoming dissatisfied with his arrangement with Aya because it wasn't what he wanted. Of course, he wasn't going to fool himself and believe that he could find something better, but it was hard to get in the mood anymore when Yohji could never get inside that wall of superiority and judgmentalness that Aya wore around him like a cloak. But this was the best he could get, he supposed, given his line of work, and when even Omi told him that he was damned lucky, well, Yohji usually spent that night drowning his disappointment in lots and lots of beer.

There wasn't much about Aya that matched Yohji's type; the man Yohji had been dreaming about was a much closer match – physically, if nothing else. But there wasn't much soft or gentle about the leader of Schwarz, either. And really, Yohji reminded himself as he flopped back onto the bed, there could be anything under that tailored suit. A beer belly, a spare tire, and flabby thighs of doom or worse: man boobs. Crawford always kept his suit coat buttoned up tight, after all. But, his mind supplied, it didn't seem plausible that fat and flab adorned that body from the way Crawford moved, and that was what Yohji's fantasies ran away with.

He couldn't help wondering what Crawford was like in bed, though, and it was with those thoughts flowing through his mind that he wrapped a hand around himself and delved into a fantasy.

 

Yohji plunked his lazy ass, as Aya had called him earlier, on the bar stool and ordered a drink. He'd asked Aya to stay and hold him the night before, wanting to make something happier for himself. Aya had laughed and called him a girl. When Yohji had turned his back to Aya and told him to go away, Aya had patted his shoulder.

"Don't be like that, Kudo. You're a grown boy, you can handle the night alone." But Yohji was alone, even when Aya was sweating and grunting on top of him, and Yohji's thoughts would drift, his fingers twitching.

Yohji gritted his teeth, hurt and angry. "Just go, Aya. Leave me alone."

Aya had been a particular jerk to him earlier that day and so Yohji had sought out the solace of stiff drinks and a dark bar. He was well past buzzed, blazing headlong into drunk, drinking away his anger, when someone slid onto the stool beside him. He glanced up curiously, did a startled double take that had him on his feet, gaping at the man beside him calmly ordering a drink.

Crawford's jacket was unbuttoned and there was no vest underneath. Yohji could see his shirt tucked into his pants, could see the belt, could even see the top of his slacks above the belt. The material wasn't rolled over, so whatever was under that suit had nothing to do with fat or flab. 

Crawford asked something, his voice smooth and faintly amused – nothing at all like what he sounded like as the leader of Schwarz. Yohji declared that he was just surprised and slid onto his stool, wrapping his fingers around a new drink. He'd already consumed half of it before it sunk in that Crawford was the one to buy him this drink. By then, he didn't care, as Crawford was getting away from his teammates as well. Yohji empathized with that and really was too drunk to do anything but commiserate with a fellow having similar problems, in a roundabout not exactly similar way. Gone were the sharp edges to Crawford's expression when opposing Weiss, and Yohji found himself listing toward Crawford as the night wore on and the number of drinks he consumed grew larger.

He'd always been a touchy-feely drunk, and now was no exception. It wasn't like he liked the man; after all, who likes the man who repeatedly tried to kill you? But sitting here in this bar beside someone who didn't seem like he was laughing at him before he shot Yohji in the head was a breath of fresh air. The conversation didn't lull and Yohji found himself smiling more often than not. Crawford had taken off his jacket at some point during the evening and had rolled the sleeves of his shirt up, and frankly, Yohji could barely tear his gaze away from his forearms. He trailed a finger up one strong forearm before flicking at a button on Crawford's jacket.

"Why do you always button up when working?" Crawford raised an eyebrow curiously. "I've seen pictures of you, you know, and you're always buttoned up." Yohji leaned into Crawford's personal space and confided: "I like the unbuttoned look better."

Crawford chuckled and Yohji liked the way it sounded, smooth and buttery. "I can't have my jacket hanging free. It could get caught on something or grabbed." Yohji entertained messy thoughts of what he'd do if he caught Crawford, and he knew vaguely that the others wouldn't agree. In fact, he probably wouldn't agree in the morning when his hangover was drilling holes in his head.

The bartender announced last call and Yohji jumped at one last drink. He felt good and had enjoyed talking with the other man. He was disappointed when he finished his drink and the evening was unavoidably over. He was too drunk to really wonder if he'd care that he had just had drinks with a man who'd tried to kill him.

He wasn't really in control as Crawford guided him to the exit. It made a nice excuse as he got to lean heavily on Crawford. Part of him – the part that enjoyed his nights of pleasure-seeking – wanted Crawford to take him home and fuck him. And the alcohol silenced any part of him that did not agree with this desire. He insisted, as he always did, that he could drive, that he wasn't too drunk to get behind the wheel. He didn't plan on driving, never did, though he had his special moments when he didn't care about anything at all. It was really a test to see who might actually care about him. Most people left him to his own devices, and he'd never had the chance to ask Aya. But a few people, like Asuka, would either drive him home or get him a cab. He tested Crawford out of sheer morbidity alone, already trying to remember where his cell phone was so he could beg someone for a ride home.

A large yellow blob stopped in front of him and Crawford's smooth voice said something about a cab, and strong hands were helping him in and he didn't get over his shock until the cab was slowing to a stop in front of his apartment. He didn't know how the driver knew where to go, just remembered peering up at Crawford through the open back door. When he staggered out of the vehicle and to the driver's window to pay, the cabbie looked at him funny and explained that his friend had already paid.

Yohji went to bed that night disconcerted and woke up with a headache added on. He stumbled into the backroom of the flower shop at 11:30 in the morning – he was rather impressed with himself for managing to be functional before noon. Aya leveled a scathing look at him.

"Hey, Aya? Can you give me a ride to my car?" Yohji shoved his sunglasses on top of his head and tried to look charming.

"Get too drunk last night? How'd you even manage to get home?" Aya hefted a box of vases to the storage shelf. "Shouldn't you lay off already? Be responsible."

Yohji stepped back, stung. "I'm being responsible, Aya." Yohji bit out, anger rising. "I'm not even scheduled until 2:00 and I didn't drive last night. Why do you have to be such an ass?"

Aya raised a pointed eyebrow and Yohji suddenly found himself comparing Crawford and Aya. "You had Omi worried again last night. And your blatant disregard for yourself is not encouraging in our work."

"Omi had Omi worried last night, not me. What does it matter to you or Omi how I cope? It's my business, not yours, and I never asked for either of you to butt in. I'm sick of your disdain and Omi's childishness." The enemy looked better at this point, more understanding and human than half of the team Yohji had been placed on. "You know what, Aya? I don't need you. I'll go ask Ken for a ride." He turned on his heel and swept into the shop, immediately spotting Ken, and ignoring Aya's soft reply.

There weren't any customers in the shop, so Yohji didn't bother putting on a happy smile, merely flagged Ken down and asked for a ride. "Sure." Ken shrugged. "My break is in thirty. You mind waiting?"

"Of course not. Thank you." Yohji clapped Ken on the shoulder. "I'll buy you lunch."

Aya walked in, interrupting Ken's excited exclamation. "I said that I would take you, Yohji."

"I told you, I don't need you. Ken's taking me, so you won't have to put yourself out," Yohji managed pleasantly while Ken snickered knowingly. Yohji was thinking of strong hands and a solid body and a cab that was paid for.

"It is the honorable thing to do."

Yohji furrowed his eyebrows, snapping at Aya. "Honorable? You don't know the meaning of honorable. When you and I go out, I order my third drink and you leave me there. You abandon me, Aya; you wash your hands of me. You wanted to know how I got home last night? A gentleman got me a cab. He also paid for it when he didn't have to. I didn't ask for his help, he offered it of his own accord. You know what, Aya? That's honor." He felt satisfied and not a little wanted, though he wasn't sure how happy he was to know that it was a member of Schwarz to finally inspire that feeling in him.

 

He knew that he was in and out of consciousness. There'd been a solo mission – he was starting to take more and more of those. He could remember lots of guards and a tailored suit. Gunshots; and he was whole after them, couldn't remember dodging either. He remembered strong hands, just like when Crawford got him that cab, only there wasn't any alcohol involved this time.

After, he remembered a bed, though it didn't smell like anything, so it wasn't particularly comforting. But he was comfortable, safe with those strong hands, smooth voice and soothing caresses. He heard Crawford speaking firmly on the phone, business, perhaps. Whatever it was, it was comforting and lulled Yohji back into sleep. He woke to Crawford's warm hand on his cheek, his voice soft, murmuring questions that Yohji slurred answers to.

Another time, Crawford was sitting on the edge of his bed, his face in profile, his hand on the other side of Yohji's thighs. Yohji could feel the warmth from him as he leaned against Yohji's legs and it made Yohji feel like someone cared, like he was someone who could be cared about. He smiled, closing his eyes again, remembering the strength in that profile, the hope that one day that warmth might be with him every night was strong as he slipped into sleep once more.

When he opened his eyes the last time, he was greeted with the sight of Crawford slumped shirtless in a chair asleep. His breath caught at the expanse of skin in front of him. Crawford was built, well muscled, definite ridges of muscle without the appearance of trying to break through his skin. There was still flexibility in his body, which was apparent in how Crawford moved, how he was settled in that chair.

He felt an overwhelming sense of security, a sense of being watched over as he realized that Crawford fell asleep while watching over him during his recovery from a concussion, he discovered as he probed cautiously at his temple. He sat up slowly, watching Crawford breathe in his slumber. He really was an attractive man, and Yohji was aware that he ought to be thinking of other things, not how much he wanted to run his fingers over Crawford's chest. He wondered what Crawford's first name was.

Crawford twitched suddenly, startling awake, blinking and sitting up. Yohji watched him openly, fingers picking at the hem of the blanket as he tried to kill the impulse to molest his enemy. Though to be fair, he never really believed in the whole good and evil, enemies-for-all-eternity bullshit that the others seemed to like so much. Yohji was much more of a realist and had never really known how to mesh with the shining idealism that blood only seemed to strengthen.

When Crawford left, Yohji stared after him at the closed door, fists knotted in the sheets, feeling strangely alone. He wanted Crawford to come back. For which he immediately scoffed at himself. He didn't like Crawford; no matter how alive he seemed to make him feel. Crawford may be good at playing drinking buddy or doctor, but his deeds were hardly worth ignoring. It was the deed that made the man. But, Yohji frowned down at his hands, Crawford's deeds also included healing him, watching over him overnight.

His head throbbed and he knew that he was thinking too hard about this. He was also quite sure that he didn't need to think so hard about this. There was nothing to think about. And maybe if he told himself that often enough, he'd actually start to believe it.

 

Aya strode into his bedroom, all cold edges and something already to say. Yohji turned away, not in the mood to deal with anyone after the general bitching out he'd received from Omi right before Omi cast off his anger and guilelessly blinked up at him with big wet eyes and proceeded to lay it on thick with the poor me, how could you worry me so guilt trip. Yohji'd lost it, shouting that it had been a damned solo mission, or had Omi forgotten just what the word solo meant.

"When will you learn not to upset Omi?" Aya snapped; a lovely opening to a conversation Yohji would rather strangle someone than have.

"When will you learn that I don't do anything to upset Omi? Omi upsets himself by sticking his nose where it doesn't belong." Yohji dragged his narrowed gaze to Aya, matching him for coldness. "I know that I sure as hell don't feel a part of Omi's grand family that he's forcing up our asses. If he wants up mine so bad, he can at least kiss it first." That had been the general gist of the conversation after Yohji had told Omi where to stick it, that Omi was just looking out for his family. Yohji hadn't felt too special for not having been included in making that decision.

"You certainly have a way of saying things."

"It's a gift." Yohji said drolly. "I thought that I told you I didn't want to talk to anybody."

"Who said I am up here to talk?"

Yohji scowled. "I told you I didn't need you anymore, so go away. I don't want you." He'd finally gotten a glimpse of what it could be like for him and he liked it, craved it, and wanted it more than he could remember wanting anything before. He had dreams, remembering the heat of Crawford as he leaned against his legs, comfortable and like he belonged. And for that night, he did, and Yohji yearned to have that back. He was going to go out and find that in a package just as attractive as Crawford, without the homicidal tendencies, of course.

He watched Aya huff his way out of his room, stood up and locked the door. He was going to take what he wanted and leave what he didn't far, far behind.

 

He had tried the nightclubs for a while, but all he was finding there were desperate people looking to lose themselves in sex and delusion. Yohji wanted more than that. He tried the pool halls and the game halls, but found people there that were taken or too wrapped up in their games to pay any attention to the outside world. He even tried Ken's soccer games, but all he found there were fathers and couples.

During all of the time he spent in those endeavors, there was one thing that kept appearing, coming out of no where, and that was Crawford. Yohji would see him at the coffee shop while taking a smoke break or grabbing breakfast before heading into the shop for his shift. He'd see Crawford at the grocery store, of all places, picking up some cheese. He'd stopped beside Crawford, looking pointedly at the block of cheese in his hand, unable to resist.

"You are so weird." Crawford turned, raising an inquiring eyebrow while Yohji stifled a nervous laugh. He jerked his chin at the cheese. "Cheese. Only Americans and Europeans eat that. The rest of the world has much better taste." Yohji smirked, raising his own eyebrow as Crawford gave a smile.

"It's not for me, actually. Lactose intolerant." Yohji started in surprise at that. It only made Crawford more touchable, for some reason, and Yohji's gaze dropped to his chest, as though he could see under his shirt at what Yohji now knew was hidden underneath.

"Then who is it for?"

"Schuldig. I swear he eats this stuff just to make my stomach turn."

Yohji smiled at that. Then he took the plunge, one of the questions he'd wanted answered for a while. "What is your name?"

Crawford raised an eyebrow. "It is Brad." There was a wry look on his face, as though he were humored by the act of giving out his name to an enemy. Or maybe just giving it out at all.

"Brad." Yohji tested and smiled, relaxing. "I like it."

Brad laughed, leaned forward slightly. "I am glad that my name meets with your approval."

After that, Yohji usually ended up in a conversation with Brad every time they were in the same place. He always walked away feeling happy, even to the point of Ken noticing. Ken brought over a six pack of beer one night and asked what was making Yohji so damned happy.

Yohji laughed. "Just met someone nice, believe it or not." Yohji still couldn't quite believe that he was describing Brad Crawford as nice. But it wasn't something that he regretted, by any means. It just took a while to let the past actually die, and his past was walking into the grave without prompting.

"Well, I hope you stick with them, because they're doing well by you." Ken toasted with his beer can and a wide grin.

"Yeah." Yohji smiled into his beer. "I don't know, though."

Ken looked at him curiously. "Don't know what?"

"If he's really a good person. I mean, I know that he's not."

Ken turned his can in his hands. "Does it matter, Yohji? He's nice to you and he makes you happy." Ken looked over at him. "But if he hurts you, I'll kill him." Yohji could only smile helplessly at that. Trust Ken to set him straight.

 

"Bangkok, huh?" Yohji showed his most charming smile to Manx. "You're finally rewarding me with all of the pretty Thai girls I can get my hands on, aren't you?"

Manx crossed her arms over her chest, unamused. "A Japanese politician will be traveling to Bangkok to check up on the state of the sex ring he funds. You need to take him out while he's out of the country. We also need you get enough information that we can pass it onto Thai authorities so they can shut down the racket."

"A solo gig, huh? Pretty hefty for just one person." Yohji frowned at the folder in his hands. It contained profiles for the politician as well as the contacts he was likely to be seeking out while abroad. He didn't speak Thai, or whatever Bangkok-ese was called.

"Because it is out of the country, we cannot risk exposure by sending more than one person." Manx tilted her head, voice softening just a touch. Sometimes, Yohji was impressed with her acting skills. If he was less jaded by everything, he might actually think that she cared. "We were unable to get you any backup. But we do have plenty of contacts. If you run into trouble, we'll be able to at least get you out ASAP."

"Reassuring. Really." Yohji closed the folder with a sigh. "I'll do it. When do I leave?"

Manx gave a sphinx smile and handed him his travel itinerary. "Tomorrow."

"Joy."

 

Yohji turned around, lost. He was somewhere in Bangkok, but he didn't know where, and his English wasn't good enough to find him his way back. He'd been trailing the politician but had gotten overwhelmed by the unfamiliar city he hadn't had time to case before the politician had gotten in town. He made a few notes in his notebook, stuffed it into his back pocket and turned around once more to look for that pastry shop when he ran into Brad. Quite literally, in fact. Yohji blinked up at Brad, rubbing his nose.

"What are you doing here?" Yohji asked. "You aren't stalking me, are you?"

Brad laughed. "I'm here on business, actually, though I'll confess to crossing the street when I saw you."

Yohji started to smile, then remembered why he was in Bangkok to begin with. "What kind of business?" He eyed Brad suspiciously.

"Personal." Brad matched his gaze evenly. "Why?" He asked after a while of watching Yohji.

"Tell me you aren't working in a sex slavery ring." Yohji pleaded. He didn't want Brad to be caught up in this, he liked Brad, he wanted Brad, but this would be too much. Yohji wasn't some sort of saint by any means, but there were some things he wouldn't be able to live with. And selling women and children after stealing them from their homes?

Brad reached into his inner jacket pocket, pulling out a checkbook stuffed neatly with a clipped bundle of receipts. Brad handed everything to Yohji. "I don't get involved in sex ring or slavery rings." Yohji flipped through the papers Brad handed him. They were all banking accounts and financial receipts. "Certain accounts of mine need to be visited in person every year." Brad touched the checkbook with his finger. "That is why I am here. Strictly personal."

Yohji actually felt himself sag with relief. He folded everything up, sticking it carefully back into the checkbook before handing it back to Brad. "Good. Thank you. I'm glad you aren't involved."

"You are here on business, then?" Yohji nodded. "That makes certain things more clear. Are you free at all? Perhaps tonight? For dinner?"

Yohji frowned. "I need to try to get to Yoshimoto tonight."

Brad stepped forward, placing his mouth near Yohji's ear. A tingle ran up and down Yohji's spine and he fought not to shiver pleasantly. "Not tonight. He'll be too heavily guarded and you won't get everything you need. Tomorrow will be better."

Yohji frowned more deeply. "I thought that you weren't involved."

He could feel Brad's smile as he straightened, tapping the frame of his glasses. "I am not. But that doesn't mean I am blind." Yohji knew, by now, of Brad's foresight, and given some of the fights that Weiss and Schwarz had been in, Yohji wasn't too keen on dismissing it as pure fantasy.

Yohji's frown deepened. "I suppose this is what you meant by certain things being clear?"

"Yes. I was trying to figure out why you'd be after someone who was reportedly out of the country."

"And you saw me going to dinner with you?"

Brad smiled. "No. I just took advantage of the opportunity." Yohji found himself smiling back.

 

Dinner was at the top of the Baiyoke Sky Hotel. Yohji marveled at the rotating view from the highest spot, floating high above Bangkok. The city was a warm glow all around them, but as stunning as the view was, Yohji found himself paying more attention to Brad. The evening was hot, but not too hot to enjoy the open air of the roof top bar. Dinner was served to them shortly, but Yohji couldn't be bothered to remember what it was he had actually eaten as he was too busy flirting with Brad to retain anything trivial like food.

Desert was very memorable, as they traveled down the seven floors to get to the observation deck, unable to keep their hands off of each other on the way down. Soon enough, Yohji ended up with his back pressed against cool glass and Brad finally sliding inside him, filling him, holding him, wanting him. Yohji clung to Brad and didn't want the feeling to end.

"Stay with me tonight?" Yohji looked up at Brad's words from wiggling back into his pants. Brad was half dressed; his shirt still hanging from his forearms and Yohji felt desire flow through him again, too soon, but still there. It didn't take long for Yohji to decide as he craved the closeness that Brad was offering him. He gave a smile, suddenly not feeling assured, but he took a step toward Brad anyway, trailing a finger along the slash of fabric across skin.

"I'd like that. Just one night, though?" Yohji prepared himself for Brad to verify that it was only for this one night. This strange courtship that Yohji was hoping had been a courtship would come to an end tonight, but at least Yohji would have this night, would sleep in Brad's bed.

Brad smiled with what seemed like a spark of hope. "One night in Bangkok, yes. I do return to Tokyo tomorrow. But I am hoping that this will continue when you return from your mission."

Yohji couldn't breathe.

 

Epilogue

 

Brad reclined next to Yohji, propped up on his elbow and slowly stoking Yohji's hip. They'd returned to Brad's room after their time in the observation deck, taken a shower together, with Yohji all but clinging to him, which Brad had not so secretly enjoyed. They'd had a leisurely bout of sex in the bed before finally falling asleep for the night. Dawn was just starting to lighten the sky outside, the pale light causing the window to glow faintly. Yohji shifted in his sleep and Brad slid his hand down his stomach, pulling Yohji closer to him. He pressed a kiss to Yohji's shoulder.

Yohji yawned, stretching under Brad's arm as he woke up. Brad watched him, finally feeling like there was nothing missing. Yohji blinked up at him and smiled, turning under his arm and pressing up against him.

"Morning." Yohji murmured into his chest. Brad stroked his hair.

"Good morning."

Yohji stilled under his hand before shifting to gaze up at him. "You really want to continue this?"

Brad murmured, rubbing a lock of Yohji's hair between his fingers, sliding his leg between Yohji's. "Yes I do. I'll treat you well. I'll be there for you. Everything that I want out of this, I'll give to you."

Yohji's fingers found his neck, slid up to his jaw and caressed him, seeking out his lips and his cheek, the dip of his temple, sliding into his hair before Yohji wrapped his arm around his shoulder. "I'll give you everything you want."

Brad rolled into Yohji, pressing his face where Yohji's neck sloped into his shoulder, tightening his arm around Yohji, sliding his other arm under Yohji to cradle his head. Yohji's arms clutched at him as he pressed kisses to Brad's skin. Yohji shifted against him.

"I know I have a job to do, but you've said my window of opportunity isn't until tonight and you leave this afternoon." Yohji gave a lopsided smile. "I don't suppose we have time for more leisurely exploration?"

Brad smiled into Yohji's skin and slid his hand down to grasp Yohji's ass. "We can always make time for that."


End file.
